Only Hymns Upon Your Lips
by lucklessdreamer
Summary: No, they're not friends. They're a bit more than that. Sometimes he steals a kiss or two. Sometimes she steals a touch or two. And sometimes, sometimes, she thinks he stole her heart. Basically, it's gratuitous smut.


Author's note: Title's a lyric from "Touch Me" from Spring Awakening. Go listen to Kyle Riabko and Christy Altomare's duet version of the song. I dare you not to be moved. This is pretty much just plotless smut, so there ya go...

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He takes her here sometimes.

That dark, secret spot of his. Where the lights of Lima fade and the stars shine brightly overhead.

One night, when it's cold and they're huddled together in the bed of his truck, she tells him that they look so close she could reach out and grab one. She takes her hands out from his jacket (where she tucked them against his heart to keep them warm) and tries, but falls a little short. It doesn't disappoint her, though, because one day soon she's going to be a star - radiant and beautiful - just like the ones above them. Only she's going to shine even brighter.

She tells him that often.

They've been coming here together since March, right after the baby was born.

She wasn't his first choice, or second or third. But she was _there_. When the rest of the world marched swiftly away, there she was, all sad smiles and pitiful eyes and soft touches.

She was his only choice.

It's May now. Warmer than March, but it's still cool at night. Cool enough that he still lays out the blanket he keeps in his truck and they keep close.

Sometimes they talk; most of the time they don't. They just lay there in silence, pressed together, looking up at the stars.

They are not friends.

He still thinks she's crazy; she still thinks he's a jerk. He still says mean things to her and she still ignores him.

No, they're not friends.

They're a bit more than that.

Sometimes, he steals a kiss or two. Sometimes, she steals a touch or two.

And sometimes, _sometimes_, she thinks he stole her heart.

He just thinks someone stole her light. Maybe Finn or Jesse. Or maybe even him. But he tries not to think about that - tries not to think at all.

Tonight, it's cloudy and the stars are harder to see. They're still evident, prickling the navy sky, but they seem further away than normal. Much harder to reach.

"Noah," she breathes as she turns on her side towards him. Her body is pressed firmly against his side, warm and soft.

His eyes close at her nearness, but he doesn't turn to her yet.

Rachel studies him careful. His face is covered in shadows, but she can still make out his features. His hardened jaw, the curve of his lips, the lines near his eyes.

In quiet moments like this, when he's not mean or hurtful, he takes her breath away.

She presses her lips against his shoulder. "Noah," she says again. "What are you thinking about?"

He's quiet for a long beat and she doesn't push him with more words (this is the one place in the world where she settles for silence).

Finally, he turns so that he's on his side just like she is. Their noses almost touch and his hand comes to settle on her hip.

"Nothing," he finally answers.

She rolls her eyes and he laughs, breathy and free.

Puck's fingers slide beneath the hem of her shirt, finding skin and stroking softly. He smiles when she sighs.

"No, really," she prods. "Tell me."

His hand slides up her side, dipping in the curve of her waist and stuttering across her breast, before his fingers finally curl into her hair.

"This," he breathes.

And then his mouth is on hers. He nips at her bottom lip before dragging the tip of his tongue across to soothe it. She opens to him on a sigh and his tongue slides against hers.

His hand in her hair, he pulls her flush against him. Her fingers grip his bicep, holding on as kisses her and she lets him.

When Rachel takes the lead and actually sucks on his tongue, his hand leaves her hair and travels back to her hip. He squeezes hard and then hitches her leg over his. He's half-hard already, just from _this_, so he moves against her, creating that delicious friction his body demands.

She tears her mouth from his and gasps when he maneuvers them _just so _that when he moves this time, he thrusts against her center.

"Rachel," he groans (though it sounds more like begging when her name leaves his lips).

He holds her tighter, scared that she'll run. He dips his head and skates his lips across her neck. He stops at her pulse point and sucks hard where he can feel her heart beating quickly.

When she moves her hips against his and moans - it's quiet and barely there, but it's moan - he knows she's not going anywhere.

Puck rolls on top of her. His mouth finds hers and he continues to rock his hips against hers. Her legs are opened wide and he fits so perfectly between them.

"Let me," he whispers.

Rachel's eyes open and she looks at him, unfocused and blurry before her, and she's not even sure he really said anything at all before he's dipping his head and pressing his mouth against her breast.

His mouth is warm, even through the cotton of her shirt, and she arches towards the heat.

When he scrapes his teeth against her nipple, she pushes against his chest and pushes them both upright.

They've done this song and dance countless times before. Noah always takes the lead - kissing and touching - but it's always Rachel who pulls the curtain. When things get a little too far, she pushes him away and they don't talk about it.

But, this time, she doesn't scoot away. And Puck stares wide-eyed and open-mouthed as she reaches for the hem of her shirt and pulls it off.

Her white bra isn't sexy. Puck's seen a lot of naughty lingerie in his time, and this doesn't even rank. But the color is in stark contrast to her olive skin, and with brown hair falling down in waves around her shoulders, Puck's pretty sure it's one of the sexiest images he's ever seen.

There are a lot of words crowding his brain (and he's sure more than half of them would make her reconsider) but he keeps his mouth shut and watches as she reaches behind her and unhooks her bra, pulling it from her body.

She bows her head, her face (and red cheeks) covered by a veil of dark hair. Rachel is proud of her body - she works hard for it - but it's something else entirely to be half-naked in the bed of this boy's truck as he stares at her.

"Hey," he whispers and it draws her head up, her eyes meeting his. He wants to tell her so many things, but he can't. So he settles for tracing a finger over the swell of her breasts.

Rachel lays back against the blanket and pulls him down with her.

He kisses her once on the lips before he travels down her body. Leaving sloppy kisses through the valley of her breasts and across the plane of her belly.

The first touch of his tongue to her nipple has her crying out and her body shooting up. He just grins and pulls the rosy tip into his mouth. His fingers pull and twist at her other nipple and it's not long before she's writhing beneath him, chanting mindless vowels and twisting her fingers into the thin strip of hair at the back of his neck.

Her skin is heated beneath his lips and his hands and he craves even more. More of her warmth, more of her body, more of her…

He pulls his t-shirt off easily, only breaking contact with her for seconds, and he blows out a breath when skin touches skin.

Rachel's hands frame his face and she pulls him into another kiss, hot and fierce.

He is painfully hard now. Between her legs, he's pressed right where he wants to be, but there are layers of clothing between them and it's not enough.

Puck slides his hand up her thigh, his fingers whispering carefully against the skin under her skirt. He's _so close _that he can feel her heat. He moves further, closer, and she doesn't stop him. He thinks that maybe she doesn't even realize his hand is there until he presses fingers against her sex and she has to break their kiss to suck in a breath.

He keeps his fingers there, against her panties where he can feel her wetness, but looks into her eyes. They are dark and blown.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asks breathlessly and prays that she wont tell him no.

He presses just slightly against her and it's enough for her to shake her head wildly and say, "No. No, don't stop."

So, he doesn't. He slides his fingers beneath her underwear where he can really feel how wet she is. Rachel's half-embarrassed of her very obvious reaction to him, but half of her can't care when he touches her just this way and she hears him groan.

She bucks her hips when his fingertips circle her clit. And he pulls her underwear down her legs when he hears her whimper his name.

Puck pushes one finger inside her. She's wet, so his finger slides easily, but, _god_, she's so, so tight.

He lowers his mouth to hers and as he swipes his tongue against her lips, he adds another finger. He moves them in-and-out at snail's pace until she begins to ride his fingers, grinding her hips and clutching his arms.

"Noah, _please_," she begs, but she doesn't even know what she's asking him for.

When he withdraws her fingers, she cries out in protest. But he pushes a thumb to her clit and it causes her to shiver.

Puck doesn't know _exactly _what she's asking of him, but he knows what he wants and he's pretty determined to get it. And it's so close, just as close as those stupid stars of hers, and he's damned if he wont at least _try_ to reach out and grab it.

He rolls off of her and shimmies ungracefully out of his jeans and boxers, knowing her eyes are on him the entire time. But he's unashamed, even of his cock standing at full attention, and crawls back between her legs.

The entire time he waits for her to protest, to shove him away, but she is uncharacteristically quiet and just watches him with wide eyes. Even as he unzips her skirt and pulls it off. She even lifts her hips to help the process and he thinks this must be a dream.

And there she is - Rachel Berry - completely naked in the back of his truck.

It's so unbelievable and so unexpected, that Puck just stares at her.

He's fucked a lot of women. A lot of cougars, a lot of desperate high school girls, and even a lot of virgins. But, this is something entirely different.

Maybe it's because it's Rachel and he actually, you know, cares about the stupid shit that comes out of her mouth.

There's a (very) small part of his brain that's yelling to stop now, while he still has a chance, but when her hand comes up and fists his cock, whatever doubts he had about Rachel go flying out the window.

She moves her hand slowly, careful and deliberate. She's biting her lip in concentration and Puck thinks he might come just from this.

"Like this?" she asks innocently.

His hand wraps around hers and without words, she instructs her to hold him tighter, move faster. She's (not surprisingly) a fast learner and falls into her own rhythm easily enough.

"Rachel, I…"

She stops and he bats her hand away.

"Do you… Do you wanna?" he asks and he's certain it's the lamest way he's ever tried to come onto someone, but he can't think straight.

Rachel falters, just for a moment, opening and closing her mouth as she tries to find the words (she knows many - too many - and they're all tangled in her head, some lodged in her throat).

So, instead of speaking, she tells him with this other language she's slowly learning: she curves a hand around his neck and brings her lips to his. Kissing him slowly as she leans back against the bed of the truck and brings him with her.

"Do you have…" she swallows thickly when his lips skim her neck. "A condom," she finishes in a gasp.

She may be foolish for doing _this _with _this_ boy, but she's not _stupid_.

And even though he is stupid most of the time, Puck has learned from his mistakes.

There's a condom tucked into his wallet, which he finds in the pocket of his jeans he kicked away earlier.

Rachel watches as he rolls it into place and she can't even believe this is happening. It's certainly not how she imagined it and it's most definitely not the boy she pictured. In her fantasy, there was never the bed of an old pickup truck. There wasn't an old, tattered blanket beneath her. And there was never a mean boy with a Mohawk.

But then she remembers, that even in her fantasy, there was never a blanket of twinkling stars overhead. There was never cool spring air tickling her skin. And there was never a boy who looked at her like _this_, touched her like _this_.

Maybe it's not like she imagined - maybe it's not _perfect_ - but it's hers and theirs. And even if it's not perfect, it's still beautiful. It still feels right.

"You're sure?" he asks even as he's spreading her legs apart.

She nods her head tightly.

"Rachel. You're _sure_?"

"Yes, yes. I'm sure."

He lowers himself over her, touching his lips to hers in just a whisper of a kiss.

"It might hurt," he tells her.

"I know." She strokes his cheek with the tips of her fingers.

What happens next is a blur.

He's kissing her, pressed against her, and then, _oh_, he's right there. Pressing inside of her so slowly that she feels it everywhere. Between her legs, coiling in her belly, shooting up to her head and snaking down to her toes.

And it hurts. The sharp pressure of him is brilliant and it makes her eyes sting with tears. She tries to blink them away and just hold onto him, scared he'll laugh if he saw them.

He stops moving when he's filled her up. And she _feels_ full. Full of Puck, of pain, of pleasure, of an incredible whirl of sadness and happiness that mix chaotically together. And of something else that she can't put her finger on. Something that she feels deep inside - even deeper than Puck is - and it makes her dizzy.

"Okay?" he asks in a sharp whisper, holding himself steady. He looks down and sees the tears staining her cheeks.

She looks away, embarrassed. But her heart expands when he cups the side of her face and brushes them away with the pad of his thumb.

That _something_ she feels might have a name, but when they're joined like this it's confusing and wonderful and scary.

"Okay," she tells him.

And then he starts again. He moves in and out, pushes deeper and deeper.

His rhythm is an easy one to match. She moves her hips in time with his, harmonizing perfectly. They always were well-matched and she thinks this is no different.

They move in tandem. She is wrapped around him, clutching him tightly against her, her thighs squeezing his hips and her arms circling his back. His face is pressed against her neck, where his grunts are muffled and his warm breath falls in gushes against her skin.

Puck's movements begin to speed up and she has trouble keeping up with this new pace - fast, erratic, and reckless.

His hips snap against hers. Once, twice, three times, and then he's shaking against her, calling out her name in many more syllables than it requires.

He collapses against her, his cheek against her chest. He licks at her collarbone before he stutters out a breath.

When he pulls out of her, she whimpers at the loss.

After he takes off the condom and chucks it out into the woods, he gathers her up next to him and kisses her. Long and hard and slow.

"Hey," he says quietly against her lips. "You okay?" The words feel awkward and foreign (he's never asked anyone that before, not after this).

It takes her a second, but she finally nods her head and curls herself into him, craving the warmth of his body.

"You know, a lot of girls don't get off their first time. 'Cause it hurts and whatever."

She's about to nod her head again, but there is a devious gleam in his eyes that makes her mind spin with possibilities.

"But lucky for you, Rach, you've got me."

She swallows hard and then she waits for him to touch her.

He doesn't disappoint. His fingers slide down her body, ending at the place she wants them the most. She's still sensitive from _just_ having sex with him - her nerve endings alight - so that when he dips two fingers inside of her it's the most amazing thing she's _ever_ felt.

This time, he moves them without mercy - quick and hard. And she moves with him, riding his hand and chasing after something elusive, but it's _right_ there. Just as close as the stars.

He thumbs her clit and licks at her nipple, bringing her to the very edge and trying to push her off.

"Rachel," he says softly just as he curls his fingers within her.

And that's it.

She's falling. Fast and hard and it's absolutely exhilarating.

The only thing she can think to say as she's going down is his name. She grips his forearm, holding him tight as she goes.

He waits until she's ridden out the last crest to pull out his fingers, wiping them on the blanket beneath them.

She opens her eyes and looks at him, but she's speechless. For the first time she can ever remember, she does not have the words. Everything she feels is indescribable and she doesn't want to ruin it with words.

Words that would probably just make him run anyway.

He rolls away from her, onto his back. She's left finally feeling how cool the night air really is.

Rachel thinks she might cry - she's overwhelmed and confusing sex for love and the boy she just lost her virginity to isn't even saying _anything_ - but before the tears can rise up and overtake her, Puck's tugging on her arm, pulling her into him.

She curls into him easily, her head pressed against his chest, her ear right over his heart, and her hand tucked against his side. Puck brings the half of the blanket they're not lying on around them and holds her close against him.

Silence surrounds them again, but it's comfortable, just like it normally is.

Overhead, the clouds have floated away and the sky has returned to its former brilliance. All velvety in hues of blues and blacks and purples kissed with sparkling stars.

"Rachel," he breathes, his lips pressed against the top of her head.

"Yeah?"

"What are you thinking?"

She tilts her head, just slightly, so that he can see the smile curving her lips, before she lays her head back down against his chest.

"The stars look even closer tonight. Like maybe you really could just reach up and take one…"

He laughs, his body shaking underneath hers, and then he whispers, "Try."

And so she does.


End file.
